I remember when Yusuf Hawkins was murdered in Brooklyn. I wasn’t very old, but I can vividly recall being sad, then angry that a group of people felt collectively entitled to take the life of another person based on something as frivolous as their race. No provocation, no just cause, and certainly no remorse.
My mother had purchased the Eyes on the Prize collection, so I had seen more than my share of grainy footage from the Civil Rights era when men and women marched despite being pelted and spit on by antagonists furious at having their way of life and their white privilege threatened by a group of uppity niggers.
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You probably know at least one family affected by autism. Recent figures say one in every 88 kids have an autism spectrum disorder.
Brooke Harris is out of a job as a Michigan teacher. But she’s not exactly sure why. All she knows is that her dismissal stems from encouraging her middle school students to raise money for the family of slain teenager Trayvon Martin. Lots of organizations are rallying not only for the arrest and prosecution of George Zimmerman, but to fundraise and defray the legal expenses Martin’s parents have accumulated just trying to bring their son’s alleged murderer to justice.
Back when I found out I was having a baby girl I couldn't help but get excited about braiding her hair and buying her little tutus. Then I got scared. I remembered all my teenage insecurities and how challenging those years can be, particularly for a girl who doesn't have high self-esteem. So yes, I did get her a tutu and I try to braid her hair if she sits still (she just 2 years-old now) but I do realize one of the most important things I can help her with is self-esteem.
My kids are lucky. The only grand-kids on any side of their family, they get just about everything they could ask for -- and more. That's not to imply that they're spoiled -- far from it -- but they have so much STUFF.
I’m always negotiating with homeless folks, and it irks Girl Child's nerves. We were picking up pizza and racing home for what turned out to be a disheartening Jets vs. Eagles game when a man approached me while I was in line.
Every year, my husband and I take our kids to the
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It makes you feel all warm and Care Bear-ish to be recognized for being part of something good, especially when most of what we hear from the media, the government — even, heaven help us, teachers when we go to pick up our kids from school — is a laundry list about what’s bad. Living in a world of social turmoil and personal chaos can be a real downer. But, in the grand tradition of silver-lining-finding perkiness, there’s the joy of giving back to others. Yay!